


The Last Kiss

by RedPandaDragon



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins
Genre: Battle of Denerim, Bonfire, F/M, celebration after victory, just day what you mean damnit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 13:02:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedPandaDragon/pseuds/RedPandaDragon
Summary: After the Landsmeet Alistair, newly king, breaks things off with Ilyana Surana because she’s a mage and elf and their friendship is decemated after the Dark Ritual.Two weeks after the defeat of The Archdemon, the survivors throw a citywide celebration.





	The Last Kiss

Sunset bathed Denerim in a victorious golden glow. The entire city gathered to celebrate the slaying of the Archdemon after a week of recovery. The salvaged town center was bustling with food, music, wine and ale. Humans, rich and poor drank and cheered with elves from the Alienage. The Hero of Ferelden alongside her trusty companions were ferried into the plaza by parade, the mania of joy was contagious. 

 

The newly crowned King of Ferelden, Alistair spent the majority of the party on the other side of the event from Ilyana Surana, he was dressed down in a tunic and trousers in an attempt to remain inconspicuous. Leliana, her face pink from alcohol took a seat beside the young King offering him a metal stein of ale. 

 

“Isn’t the Maker wonderful?” she asked, her eyes glassy  reflecting the bonfire with a wide smile across her face. Alistair coughed, nearly choking, on his mouthful of ale at Leliana’s question. He wiped his face with the back of his hand while clearing his throat.

 

“Excuse me? I fail to see what’s so wonderful about a destroyed city, there’s still a Darkspawn horde to contend with and…” His gaze shifted from Leliana to the bonfire which was also the direction of his former love. He sighed heavily before drinking the rest of his mug.

 

“You’re looking at it all wrong, silly. Look at how despite what horrible things that have happened, the people of Denerim have come together to share this special night. Old rivalries, bigotries, differences in status that have normally separated them, but tonight they are Denerim, tonight we are all Ferelden. We survived something that they will talk about for ages to come, so tonight we celebrate.”

 

Alistair focused on the assassin elf who kept putting his arm across Ilyana’s shoulders, ignited an unexpected fury of _ jealousy _ . He watched their friendship blossom since the Landsmeet. He damned Zevran for being an opportunist and his suspicions of his character were being validated before his eyes. He turned to Leliana and smiled, she was doing her best to comfort him, even if it felt forced and  _ preachy. _

 

Zevran rounded the bend with his arms full of bottles and staggering, his intoxication visible and unabashed. 

 

“Friends! Companions! Here! I bring libations! Tonight we’re all Kings, except you, you’re just a Warden tonight!” Zevran winked at Alistair handing out fresh drinks to him and Leliana. They clanked their bottles in a toast before Zevran rejoined Ilyana’s captivated audience.

 

Unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer, fueled by the bravery of alcohol and victorious battle he approached the Hero of Ferelden, who’d made an escape from her circle of fans as she went to find herself more drink. Ilyana hadn’t noticed Alistair approach and holding two bottles in hand she walked straight into the towering human. 

 

“One of those for me?” he asked, his crooked grin wide and a more lopsided than usual due to his own levels of intoxication. Ilyana stumbled back a few steps and extended a hand clutching a bottle while she took a swig of the one in her hand. 

 

“It is now,” she replied as he took wrapped his fingers around her hand holding the bottle and took a drink, pulling her in because her hand was trapped under his. “I feel like since you became king you got taller. Are you taller?” 

 

He shook his head while taking a drink, when he lowered his beverage her hand was still beneath his. She was close enough that the scent of her filled him, awakening a fire he’d believed forever extinguished since their last serious conversation. The memories of that night chilled him immediately, his hand released hers and took the bottle from her. 

 

“I’m sorry, I forgot myself for a moment, I should go.” The hollow of his chest ached as he looked down at Ilyana and then away at the fire. He gulped down his drink, the frothy caramel beverage went down hard. Ilyana, drunk and confused did the same with her beverage unsure of what to do.

 

“I save your kingdom, your life and you’re just going to hate me, forever? Fine. Tonight I’m the Hero of Ferelden and if you will excuse me, I’m going to spend it with people who appreciate me.” Her speech slurred. “Funny I can trust more in the assassin sent to kill me than the Warden by my side.” Her words wounded him more than he anticipated. He understood that he now was straddled with unending responsibility but he also would be a Warden until he died. He watched her take a few steps away from him and before she was out of reach he snatched her hand out of the air and pulled her back to him. Startled she dropped the bottle she carried in the whip of moment. They stood staring each other directly locking eyes, both filled with malice before softening. 

 

“I want to get out of here, do you want to join me?” Alistair asked, clearing his throat. “I also know where there’s better wine and snacks.” 

 

“You had me at  _ join. _ ” She paused for a moment. “Get it? Because we’re Grey Wardens?... let’s go. Zevran’s attempting to be captain handsy tonight and…” Her voice trailed off, Alistair felt the cool wash of relief followed by the reddening of his cheeks. He struggled to sort through the barrage of thoughts, hopes and dreams.

 

Together they walked back to Denerim Palace singing battle songs at the top of their lungs and even re-enacted some of their favorite moments in battle. Ilyana charged up a pile of debris.

 

“Rawr! I’m Andraste the dragon!” She roared with her arms extended. Alistair laughed so hard his sides ached.  Pivoting on her heels thrusting a phantom sword into the sky she took a forward step onto an unsupported beam and lost her footing. She tumbled down the debris pile as Alistair rushed to catch her. She landed in his arms, he forgot how light she was, the scent of frankincense from her hair created a knot in his abdomen. One arm under her knees and his other hand spread across her upper back pressing her up into him as he leaned down and kissed her. She took his face into her hands, pulling him in. Their lips sealed as their tongues reached further and further.

 

Ilyana pulled back gasping for air and Alistair set her down. They exchanged knowing glances before bursting into a sprint toward the castle. 

 

“I’m too drunk to run like this!” Alistair cried out as he gained on Ilyana, she slowed as they reached the gates. He saluted to the guards as he reached her. Carried away in the moment he pulled her to him but she pushed him bag wagging a finger and smirking. 

 

How he’d missed her playfulness and energy! After weeks of anger and disappointment, self loathing and loneliness he didn’t care anymore, not tonight. Soon as they entered the castle, he wrapped his arms around her, running his fingers through her hair as they kissed. She grabbed his rear pulling him into her, he could feel his growing excitement press into her small form. 

 

“Wait, we could be seen.” Ilyana panted. Alistair continued to kiss her neck as he reached down her side pulling her knee up, his signal for her to hop up and wrap her legs around him. She responded as she had countless times before and he carried her upstairs into the royal suite. 

 

As soon as Alistair closed the door behind him he reached down and pulled her tunic over her head. She ran her hand across his groin and grabbed a fist full of his shirt and took a few backward steps toward the mattress bringing Alistair with her. Their lips locked, he allowed himself to be guided down. One hand cradled her head while the freed one caressed her small firm breast. The soft of her skin beneath the rough calluses of his hands was proving too much to bare. His heart quickened, pounding against his rib cage. He’d felt desire before, but this was a place he’d not yet experienced before. He raised himself up taking a moment to truly take her in. 

She looked different, somehow. It wasn’t the surface details such as new scars and healing lacerations from the Archdemon. 

 

He glanced down at her belted leather breeches, his hand followed his eyes down the side of her body until her calf.

 

“Tall boots? Always the pants and boots.” He unlaced the knee high boot he was holding then removing it with a swift tug. He leaned over and nibbled on her ear lobe. She writhed beneath him giggling madly. 

 

“I miss the days when you wore circle robes and slippers. You were so much easier to undress.” He whispered before removing her second boot. He tossed it over his shoulder theatrically before removing her belt and throwing it on the floor. 

 

***

 

The grogginess that accompanied Alistair’s hangover at dawn made it difficult to open his eyes. He felt Ilyana begin to move and in response he tightened his arms around her impeding her attempt to sit up.

 

“It’s too early, Yana.” He whined into her neck. They were a tangled mess of limbs, bed sheets and Ilyana’s long black hair. 

 

Ilyana rolled over to face him placing her hands on his cheeks and kissing him deeply. They both grimaced laughed.

 

“I’m sorry I must taste like a wet Mabari smells.” Alistair chuckled. 

 

“Well, I know where’ve you been. I’m not any better. Ugh, I thought Wardens were hangover proof?” Ilyana laughed and then made a face. Alistair propped himself up on his elbows. 

 

“Other than my headache and my desire to take you again I feel pretty okay,” he said, his brows knit together in concern. 

 

“I feel like death, nauseous death.” Ilyana groaned and sat up. Alistair placed a hand on the middle of her back. She turned to him and gently kissed him before standing to dress. 

 

“You don’t have to go yet, the next Darkspawn hunt it tomorrow.” The sound of pleading in his voice surprised him. He didn’t want the night to end, even though it was already the next day. 

 

“Alistair, I  _ have _ to leave. If I don’t go now, I won’t be able to.” She laced her boot and fastened her belt. He didn’t want her to leave, ever. He couldn’t stay angry at her, despite their grievances. How could she leave after a night like the last? 

 

“Then don’t, you’re already Commander of the Ferelden army, you can be here as long as you’ll have me.” Alistair sat up in bed, a slow panic gripped him. The last few weeks came flooding back in a crashing wave. 

 

“How long before everyone talks? You asked me to give you space to do the right thing, how can I do that if I’m always sharing your bed?” She sat on the edge of the mattress, watching her he realized everything he said, he said out of anger but not because he didn’t love her anymore. 

 

“Yana,” he began, “I…” The truth of reality hit him. Ilyana must’ve seen it in his face, she leaned in pressed her soft lips to his and then kissed his forehead. 

 

“It’s time for me to go,” Ilyana whispered before slipping out the door. Alistair sat alone on the mattress grabbed a pillow and embraced it tightly. There was so much left he wanted say, but he couldn’t do it, he didn’t know how to make it right again. He couldn’t, the Fifth Blight was over and he was never going to be a nineteen year old new Grey Warden again. 

 

“So… this is what it means to be king.” He bit his bottom lip before crashing back down into the pillows inhaling deeply. He decided he could still be on the road fighting the good fight in his dreams. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
